


save the date

by 702reid



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/702reid/pseuds/702reid
Summary: derek needs a date to his sister's wedding. spencer happens to be free.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 8
Kudos: 239





	save the date

**Author's Note:**

> ok. hello! idk anything about derek's sisters in the show. lets just pretend that one of them is getting married lmfao

Spencer is the first to arrive in the bullpen this morning. It’s dark, empty, his only company being black computer screens and the quiet hum of the air conditioner for the next half-an-hour. He flicks on the lights, making his way over to his desk with a travel-mug of coffee clutched in his hand. It’d long since gone lukewarm (the Metro ride from Spencer’s apartment in D.C. down to Quantico was just shy of forty-five minutes long) but Spencer isn’t complaining. Coffee is coffee.

He takes a sip and decides that it needs a touch more sugar on top of the two packets he had already added earlier this morning. When he returns from the break room, the bullpen is still empty.

Spencer doesn’t mind it, per se. Being alone here with only the black screens and the air conditioner. It gives him enough time to prep for whatever horrors their next case will inevitably hold.

Penelope gets here fifteen minutes later. She gives Spencer an enthusiastic _good morning, my lovely boy genius!_ then scurries to her office across the hall, her heels clicking on the tiled floors. And then Spencer is alone again. He’s never been able to wrap his head around how Penelope always has so much energy _this_ early in the morning, he thinks. It’s like the eighth wonder of the world.

Emily and JJ walk in next, side-by-side, and they’re all smiles. Spencer can’t help but smile, too. Rossi and Hotch show up a few minutes after they do.

By the time Morgan arrives, Spencer has already finished his first cup of coffee - which has, so far, done next to nothing to wake him up; he needs at least three or four before he’s fully ready for the day.

His eyes immediately wander over to Morgan, because _of course_ they do, and his heart skips a beat.

(Because _of course_ it does.)

Derek is wearing a grey v-neck that clings tight to his chest. Spencer can’t stop staring even if he wanted to.

(He doesn’t want to, though.)

“Hey, pretty boy, good morning,” Derek smiles at him, gives him a nod before setting his things down on his desk. And just like that, Spencer’s heartbeat increases tenfold. _Just like that._ And so easily, too. Derek had only said five words to him. Five.

“Uh, hey, Morgan,” Spencer says weakly, and he sits there and wishes his voice wasn’t so shaky. Wishes he could look Derek in the eye for over three seconds without having to look away because he’s blushing like some lovesick fool. Derek never seems to notice, though.

(Spencer isn’t sure whether he’s thankful that Derek doesn’t.)

Derek glances down at his cellphone, eyes skimming over a text, Spencer guesses. And then he watches as Derek sighs.

“Uh, hey, is anyone free next Saturday by chance? I kinda need a favor,” Derek asks no one in particular, his dark eyes jumping from Emily and JJ over to Penelope, who’d sauntered in just in time, complete with a pink frosted donut in her hands, and then to Spencer.

His question gets a collective no from JJ, Emily, _and_ Penelope (who apologizes profusely; Derek only laughs and tells her that it's _no big deal, baby girl_ ).

And that’s when he looks over to Spencer again, an eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly as he asks, “Reid?”

Spencer hesitates before saying, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m free next Saturday...”

“Pre- _tty_ boy!” Derek is beaming at him now, and it’s all Spencer has ever really wanted, “I knew I could count on you! I’m gonna owe you big time.”

Sometimes Spencer wishes he could just - live in certain moments forever. Freeze them, savor them, pack his bags and _move into them_.

Right now is one of those moments. Derek Morgan smiling like that - at _him_ , no less - causes Spencer’s chest to ache in the best possible way.

“So, um,” Spencer starts. He brushes a lock of stray hair from his eyes, lifts them up to Derek (who is still smiling. Spencer’s chest still aches). “What’s the favor?”

“My sister is getting married,” Derek explains, “And I need a date to her wedding. I told her I was gonna bring a date, so she saved two seats under my name, and I... don’t have one.”

“Oh?” Is all Spencer can manage. He hopes he’s adequately hiding the fact that he is _freaking out._

“Oh, that’ll be so fun, Spence!” JJ exclaims.

“That cool, kid?” Derek is asking, and Emily and Penelope are both grinning at him, their eyebrows raised, and Spencer thinks he’s forgotten how to fucking _breathe_. “I know it’s a little short notice.”

“Yeah, it’s-” Spencer pauses, tries to steady his voice (and it doesn’t work, because _of course_ it doesn’t work). He might need one of those puke bags they give to passengers on commercial airlines to hyperventilate into. “That’s cool. Next Saturday.”

Next Saturday feels far too soon all of a sudden.

* * *

“It’s not an actual date or anything, Pen,” Spencer complains to Penelope, a pout weighing down his lips. “He only asked me to go with him because he couldn’t find anyone else.”

“Oh, honey,” Penelope frowns. “No, don’t think about it like that.”

It was a Tuesday night. 7:30 p.m. After the initial shock had finally worn off, Spencer realized that - _yeah_. Derek had only asked him as a last resort. He’d even _said so_.

Basically.

Penelope was able to convince Spencer to go shopping with her after work ( _“You should get a new suit, come on, it’ll be so much fun! We can even go together!”_ ) and now they’re sitting inside a fairly empty coffee shop. A bag from Men’s Warehouse is tucked under the table near Spencer’s feet.

(The suit in said bag cost nearly $300, and Spencer is planning on returning it the day after the wedding - why keep it if he was only going to wear it out once?)

Spencer sips his iced coffee with a dejected shrug and a shake of his head. His shoulders slump. Droplets of water had rolled down the side of the cup, pooling onto the table. With his sleeve, he gently wipes away the ring it left behind.

“Hey,” Penelope says. Her voice is abnormally quiet. She’s still frowning. “I hate seeing you sad.”

“I know,” Spencer tries his best to put on a smile for her. It’s forced, but it’s a smile nonetheless, and it seems to cheer Penelope up just enough. “I’m sorry. I just - I like him so much, Penelope. I want it to be real.”

* * *

“Hey, kid,” Derek takes a seat next to Spencer on the plane - they’re flying down to Orlando for a case. “Forgot to give you this.”

Derek digs around in one of his pockets, eventually producing a small card. He holds it out for Spencer to take.

It’s one of those 'save the date' announcements. Spencer mumbles out a quiet thank you as he glosses over it. Saturday the 22nd, and the realization that the wedding is only nine days away hits Spencer head-on like a semi. _Full-force collision._

Nine days until Spencer will have to share a hotel room with Derek Morgan, act like he is Derek’s _date_ at a _wedding_ , where they’ll most likely have to _hold hands_ and -

He’s not ready. He can feel his insides knotting up at just the thought of it.

“You okay?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” Spencer lies. “Yes.”

Derek only chuckles, breathy. He probably doesn’t buy it. “All right, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to think about next Saturday (which is only nine days away, two-hundred and sixteen hours and-). He tries to focus on the case. And it works, too, until he’s alone in his hotel room, lying awake at well-past-midnight, and then suddenly it’s all he can think about.

It’ll be a miracle if he’s able to make it through next weekend.

* * *

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. A slow one, too.

There’s only... one day standing between right now and the weekend (Derek had convinced Hotch to let the both of them take Friday off, too), and Spencer isn’t ready—He’s not gonna be able to pull this off, he knows he isn’t. He’s dreading it, actually, to the point where his stomach hurts. 

He’s in the middle of complaining to poor JJ about just that (and probably giving her a migraine in the process) when Derek strolls in, that signature million-dollar smile of his lighting up the room.

“Pretty boy!”

Spencer glances up at him. He looks exceptionally good today - he always looks good, but today is _something else_ \- and it’s got Spencer a little tongue-tied.

“Hmm?”

“I wanna buy you lunch,” Derek starts, and Spencer is sure his jaw drops. He scrambles to close it. “Consider it a thank you.”

Spencer sits there, stunned. _Morgan wants to buy him lunch and… don’t make this into more than it is._

He's _not_ going to make it into more than that, not going to overthink it. It's just lunch - he isn’t going to read into it.

(Even if he really, really wants to.)

He whips his head around to look at JJ (and nearly pulls a muscle in his neck, _how absolutely embarrassing_ ), his eyes wide and mouth still hanging open, and she only laughs. Her eyebrows are raised knowingly.

(JJ was the first person Spencer had ever told about his feelings for Derek. He remembers it vividly - _how could he forget?_ \- he’d tagged along with JJ, Penelope, and Emily for drinks one night. The first words out of his mouth were _JJ, I can’t do this_. They had come out shaky, gotten stuck in his throat, behind his lower lip.)

“Anywhere you want, kid. It’s on me,” Derek sweetens the deal.

“Okay,” Spencer says after two minutes and twenty-six seconds of silence, internally panicking. He tries to keep it casual when he adds, “All right. Thanks, Morgan.”

Derek smiles. Something about it feels different, though Spencer can’t place it.

They get too-expensive sandwiches from a café that’s five minutes down the street (Spencer wanted to stay close by because _what if they got called in for a case-_ ).

And Spencer is only half-listening to what Derek is saying now, mainly because he’s too focused on Derek’s _lips_ and how nice it would feel to have them on his own, and-

“—That all right with you, Reid?” He catches the tail-end of whatever Derek was in the middle of saying, quickly nodding in hopes that would make it seem like he was paying attention all along.

“I’ll pick you up at,” Derek pauses and scrunches his face up as he thinks. “Eh, maybe nine-ish? Flight’s at eleven, we’ll land by one, one-thirty...”

Derek lets his sentence trail off.

“That works,” Spencer fills the brief silence. And then, because he just can’t stand it anymore, he blurts out, “ _Please_ let me pay you back for this. I—just, this sandwich was nine dollars, Derek. _Nine_ dollars! That’s ridiculous!”

Derek chuckles warmly, and Spencer can feel his eyes lingering on him for a few seconds too long. He pretends to be busy with a nonexistent text on his phone. “Hey, I told you, kid. This is on me. Uh-uh, none of that.”

Reid opens his mouth to argue. Before he’s able to get the words out, though, Derek is cutting him off with a, “You’re not winnin’ this one, pretty boy.”

And then Derek winks at him ( _winks at him, holy shit_ ) and Spencer is left blushing hard and at a complete loss for words.

* * *

They land at Chicago O'Hare Friday afternoon around one, one-thirty, just like Derek had said (and who knew Illinois would be so chilly this time of year? Spencer shivers in his thin t-shirt, the wind bitter enough to make him bite his tongue).

Derek hails a cab with ease and offers Spencer his jacket once they’re inside. For some reason, the driver has the air-conditioning on full blast. 

Spencer declines, insists he’s fine even though he has dreamed of this moment what seems like thousands of times over.

“C’mon, pretty boy. You’re shakin’ like a leaf,” Derek points out.

“I’ll be okay, um, you really don’t have to—” Spencer starts, but a mere glance in Derek’s general direction has him giving in embarrassingly fast.

(And _only Derek_ , he thinks. Only Derek could ever do this to him, have this effect on him.)

And then he’s wearing Derek’s jacket and there’s an odd lump sitting in his throat, choking him almost, and he doesn’t know where it came from. He looks out the window, buildings blending together into one before his eyes as they speed through the shining city. Time blurs.

They’re staying at the Ritz-Carlton, on the 16th floor, Spencer soon learns. He follows Derek inside and his eyes are immediately drawn to the bar, golden and glowing in the center of the room. Spencer, standing there in his worn Converse and his too-thin t-shirt, suddenly feels very out of place.

When they make it to their room ( _finally_ \- sixteen floors is far too long an elevator ride, especially for Spencer. Elevators freak him out), Spencer freezes right where he’s standing. He hasn’t even gotten fully through the doorway yet because all he can focus on is the bed that’s sitting in the middle of the room.

The single bed. One bed. As in, he and Derek are going to have to share, and _no_ , he can’t do that, absolutely not—This is where he has to draw the line, because -

“What’s up?” Derek starts, casual, and then, “Oh.”

Derek drops his bags on the floor then. They land with a heavy _thud_. “I swear I booked a double, Spence, I swear to god. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want me to. Just say the words, pretty boy.”

_Spence_. 

Spencer blinks slowly. Stares at the bed. “No, we can both—it’s big enough, I'm not gonna make you sleep on the _floor,_ Derek—”

If he wasn’t nervous before, he sure is now.

Hotels can sort-of mess with your sense of reality.

And this one, tonight, isn’t any different - Spencer very well may be in some kind of alternate universe right now, he figures. Because _right now_ he is sitting inches away from Derek, close enough to smell the damn fabric softener he uses, and there’s certainly no existing reality in which Spencer could have ever pictured this happening.

Only - it _is_.

And Spencer is trying to stay calm (well - as calm as he can when Derek Morgan is sitting next to him), focusing on his breathing and not the fact that Morgan is _this_ close to him. It takes just about everything he has in him to do so.

The TV is on, dimly lighting up their otherwise pitch-black room, but it mostly serves as background noise. Neither of them are paying attention to it.

Hell, Spencer doesn’t even know what _show_ is on.

(Curious suddenly, he glances at the screen. Some home improvement show, it looks like. He lets himself smile.)

“You’re awful quiet over there, pretty boy,” Derek says, voice low (and Spencer isn’t looking at Derek, but it’s like he doesn’t even need to; he can tell Derek is smiling). 

And that’s because Spencer is ninety-nine percent sure he is going to have a panic attack within the next five minutes, but he doesn’t say that aloud. Instead, he gives Derek what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just,” Spencer begins, and he doesn’t know where he’s going with this; he hopes he’ll find it along the way, “Um. If—You wouldn’t have asked me to come with you if you’d found an actual date, right? Like - You only invited me because everyone else was busy, and—?”

Spencer stops. Braces himself for Derek’s answer. He’s not sure he wants to hear it, and _why did he even ask, he should’ve kept his goddamn mouth shut—_

_No;_ he needs to hear it. He knows he can’t keep clinging onto this gut-wrenching sliver of hope any longer, can’t keep dreaming of something he won’t ever be able to have. He needs to hear it, once and for all. And then maybe, _maybe_ he could try to move on -

“Kid. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, hesitantly, Spencer does.

“I wasn’t looking for a date,” he says. “Because I wanted to go with you. I _want_ to be here with _you_ , pretty boy. Yeah, I mean, I could’ve found someone else if I really tried. I didn’t wanna try, though. Because, Spencer? I think I’ll always pick you.”

If this is a parallel universe, or some sort of an alternate reality, Spencer thinks, it’s a beautiful one. He hopes they’re all like this.

“In every situation. _Every_ scenario,” Derek continues. Spencer thinks he wants to cry; he bites down hard on his lower lip so he doesn’t. “I’m gonna pick you. And I _mean_ that, kid. I’d choose you even if everyone else wasn’t busy. I—”

“Holy shit.” And Spencer doesn’t mean to interrupt him, in fact he feels genuinely terrible that he did, but he just can’t _help it_. “You... uh, I...”

_That’s not a sentence_ , he realizes, shakes his head. Gives Derek a look instead, not quite certain what emotion he’s intending it to convey. Maybe something like _no one’s ever said anything even remotely like that to me before?_ Or _I am so stupidly in love with you?_ Maybe _holy shit, do I actually have a chance with you?_

Derek smiles at him, and it’s all he’s ever wanted and _more_ somehow. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay, pretty boy?”

Spencer nods, doesn’t have the time to get any words out.

(Which is probably for the best, because who knows what would’ve come out of his mouth?)

Spencer grabs Derek’s shoulders, kissing him back almost feverishly, kissing him as if this is going to come to an inevitable end any second now. He wants to hold on for as long as he can.

“Hey,” Derek whispers once they finally part for air, “Let’s slow down, all right? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Derek thumbs away a few strands of hair Spencer didn’t realize had fallen into his eyes. _Gently_ , too - his touch is so gentle, a ghosting of fingertips across Spencer’s soft skin, and Spencer nearly shivers underneath it.

This time, Spencer is the one who leans forward first, covering Derek’s lips with his. The digital clock on the nightstand glows a blue-green, _11:12 p.m._

Spencer has been up since five this morning. Barely got a wink of sleep last night, too. His eyes burn when he closes them and he’s got a bit of a headache, and yet he’s never felt more alive than he does right now.

He’ll remember it forever, he thinks fondly.

* * *

“You clean up nice,” Derek peeks his head around the bathroom door, adjusting his tie in the mirror. 

Spencer is in the middle of trying to work a handful of gel through his hair. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to this, hearing Derek compliment him outright. He laughs, his cheeks reddening, “Yeah, I would hope so; this suit cost me almost $300!”

“Money well spent, pretty boy!” Derek grins, then disappears into the main room.

The wedding starts in an hour. Spencer wipes his hands on a nearby towel and studies himself in the mirror before flicking the lights off; he looks decent enough. Derek is lounging on the unmade bed, already ready, his legs stretched out and crossed at his ankles. One of his arms is angled behind his head, painfully casual. 

“Are you excited?” Spencer asks. He sits down next to Derek. “To watch your sister get married?”

“Yeah.” Derek nods. “Yeah, I’m really happy for her.”

“Me, too.”

The next forty minutes go by fast - too fast. And before Spencer knows it, Derek is leaping up from his spot on the bed, frantically telling Spencer that it’s _time to go_ and his heartbeat speeds up. They leave their room in a hurry.

Once the elevator reaches the first floor and they step out, Derek weaves his fingers between Spencer’s. He gives Spencer’s hand a squeeze; Spencer’s heart swells. “Let’s do this, pretty boy.”

The venue is nice; extravagant. Everyone is dressed to the nines. 

Derek turns at the sound of his name, and, by default, so does Spencer. 

"Hey, mama," He smiles, gives his mom (Fran, Spencer remembers) a big hug. Her face seems to light up when her eyes land on Spencer.

“Spencer,” she says warmly. It almost brings tears to Spencer’s eyes; he has to quickly blink them away. “I was wondering when you two were gonna make it official; Derek talks about you enough!”

The slight blush on Derek’s cheeks is, Spencer will admit, very satisfying to see. He grins. 

_Derek talks about you enough._

Derek _talks_ about him. _And it’s happened more than once._

“Aw, c’mon,” Derek laughs. “Don’t do me like that.”

Fran gives them both one last smile before hurrying to catch up with the rest of the bridal party. Derek turns to Spencer. “Wedding’s gonna start soon, we should get to our seats.”

They’re sitting in the front, first row. And sure enough, there _are_ two seats reserved under Derek’s name waiting for them.

Derek puts an arm around Spencer’s shoulders as the wedding begins.

Soon, it ends. 

Everyone gathers in the next room over for the reception not long after. Drinks have been poured, the cake has been cut, and Spencer is sitting next to Derek, picking at what’s left of his dinner.

“Hey.” Derek turns to Spencer, his voice is drowned out by the loud music. Everything is.

“Hmm?”

Spencer isn’t exactly sure what time it is, only that the lights had dimmed a bit and the music had slowed considerably. He stares at the crowded dance floor. 

Derek gives him a grin. “Wanna dance with me?”

Spencer _immediately_ shakes his head. “I, uh, I don’t dance...”

“You _don’t_ or you _can’t_?” Derek teases. His smile doesn’t waver.

“Both,” Spencer admits, an annoying blush dotting his cheeks. He lowers his eyes.

“It’s not as hard as you would think... C’mere, I’ll show you.”

So Spencer lets Derek drag him out onto the dance floor (because how could he say no?). Derek gently positions Spencer’s arms around his neck, then rests his own hands on either side of Spencer’s waist. “There, like that,” his lips brush against the cartilage of Spencer’s ear, “And then we just—”

“Shit,” Spencer mutters after he accidentally steps on Derek’s foot. “I'm so sorry; see, I told you I can't—”

Derek only laughs, presses a quick kiss to Spencer’s lips. Underneath the lights, his skin is tinted a muted purple shade. It’s something straight out of a dream.

(Spencer wants to pinch himself just to be sure this _isn’t_ one.)

* * *

Spencer wakes up the next morning, _Sunday morning_ , with his face pressed into Derek’s shoulder. He’s got an arm stretched across Derek’s chest, and he’s pretty sure one of Derek’s arms is looped around the small of his back.

He checks the clock. It’s early, much earlier than he’d thought, so he lets himself doze off again, warm and relaxed in Derek’s embrace. It's the fastest he's ever fallen asleep. 

And when he wakes up next, the bed is empty. He looks around, realizes Derek is standing over by the TV stand, stirring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” he grins as Spencer stretches his arms up over his head, yawning. “Got you some coffee. I even put five pounds of sugar in there, too, just like you like it,” he teases.

Spencer’s laughter fills the room. He takes a sip; it soon falls silent. Peaceful. Spencer wishes every morning could be like this.

Maybe that’s what prompts him to ask, “Derek? Um, what... What is this? You know, us...?”

“How about this, pretty boy,” Derek starts, “When we get back, let me take you out on a real date. All right? I’m serious about you.”

“I’d like that.” Spencer nods, smiles down at his coffee, and he has to force himself to look up and meet Derek’s eyes. Derek crosses the room then, sitting next to Spencer on the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight.

**Author's Note:**

> u know when you're writing a fic and its just like "please for the love of fucking god i just want to be done with this shit already"? yeah. that's why the ending is like that i kinda lost motivation halfway thru 
> 
> hope u enjoyed it tho and that it made some kind of sense :-)


End file.
